


Collecting Dust

by PsYcHoLoGiCaLdArK



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: This is backstories, just backstories, thats it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25857475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsYcHoLoGiCaLdArK/pseuds/PsYcHoLoGiCaLdArK
Summary: Grian and Iskall go to Xisuma's base when he's offline, to hopefully gather some S.T.A.R team info. What they get is... A little more than what they bargained for.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

Grian had stepped into Xisuma's base, he and Iskall snooping around for information. They were looking in books, on papers, anything the relitively mysterious hermit had. Grian was the one who found the book. The book that started this entire conversation.

"Hey Iskall! Look! I think this might be it!" Grian beamed, and Iskall looked over to him.

"Mega! Read it G-man!"

Grian laughed softly, happy with this little espionage mission. "No! Lets go back to base and read it there." Grian then took off, using an excessive amount of rockets and _somehow_ getting through the door. It only took a few minutes for them to get back to base. To sit down at the meeting table and start reading.   
  
_____  
  
 **Name:** Docm77 (debating still if thats his actual name)

 **Gender:** male presenting

 **Height:** 1.9 m

 **Weight:** 90.71 kg

**What I know;**

He was walking home from school, the last week of his sophomore year, when this all happened. Doc had stayed late one night, working on a project for his robotics course. He had been kicked out by the school janitor at around 5 pm, the sun still high in the sky as he walked. He lived with his mother, his father usually out of the picture due to work, in a place far away from the town. He knew his father built the home himself, and he could never imagine a world where he didn’t live there. 

Until that night. 

Doc had once been human, with light skin, brown hair, and bright blue eyes. He was still wearing the labcoat he had bought for his robotics course, with the excuse of ‘it makes me feel more legit’. He was never one to have too many friends, as his personality tended to make others afraid of him, but his teachers usually liked his calm, determined nature and his intelligence. 

The kidnapping had been sudden, by a man he knew rather well. His bio teacher. Mr.K. He had drove up, and offered Doc a ride home. Doc gladly accepted, his bag heavy with different materials and books. He climbed into the passenger seat, thanking the man and telling him his address. To this day Doc regrets it. 

Someone had been in the backseat, throwing a bag over his head and holding it tight before Doc could even do anything to stop it. Doc yelled, but they were already driving, and driving fast. Doc was quickly unconscious, unable to breathe in the bag. 

When Doc had woken up again, he was gagged and tied to a chair. And very clearly in some sort of warehouse like build. He looked around, struggling in binds. He still remembers what Mr.K had told him, word for word. 

“You should feel so lucky,” The teachers voice was twisted, a grin pulled onto his face that Doc would only be able to describe as mad, “You’re going to be a part of something massive.” He could still feel the hand that grabbed him by the face, forcing him to look his old teacher in the eyes. That was when the experimenting began. 

Mr.K had wanted to make him into a super weapon. A kamakazi of sorts. He wanted to make Doc have creeper like abilities, but keep the sentience of a player. Be a super solider, one that didn’t need to eat or sleep, ones who could have a hive mind and go after enemies without verbal communication. Doc would’ve made him rich. 

At first, the experiments weren’t so much biological and intrusive as they ended up being, more of attitude management and Doc listening on to the ramblings of a mad man. It was a month before the actual experiments began. Doc had been sitting, now not tied up but instead chained to a wall, when Mr.K walked into the warehouse, dragging in a caged creeper, one that was hissing and thrashing, but was unable to explode for some reason. 

Doc had never seen one before this, as the town he lived in was rather safe and well lit. the fear he felt would be the first of many, many days of it. He didn’t dare ask what was happening as Mr.K dug a syringe into the creeper, drawing blood slowly from it. The creature hissed loudly, threatening to explode as it puffed up, but Mr.K didn’t seem bothered, he just stepped away with a syringe of blackened blood. 

3 months of experimentation later, a total four months of Doc’s captivity, he was starting to change. He was more aggressive, his head hurt in the light, but most importantly. He was afraid. Mr.K had been drawing blood from creepers until they had died, using the blood to make a sort of hormone injection, one that would slowly turn Doc’s body into that of a creepers. Or at least, that was the theory. Mr.K had practically rejoiced when he approached Doc one day, and Doc hissed for the first time. 

5 months into his captivity, Doc was forgetting his actual name, only being referred too as ‘project’, ‘experiment’ or ‘creature’. He had a muzzle over his mouth now, as his canines had actually fallen out, a replacement growing in despite his age. Mr.K had reveled in that fact, watching the extra sharp teeth grow and documenting his findings. Doc had bruising across his body, from punishments, from just his general situation. He felt disgusting, subhuman. The only thing close to bathing he got was having water thrown at him occasionally. 

7 months. His memories were getting hazy, being replaced only by the need to kill. His brain yelled prey, prey, prey like a montra. His skin was starting to grow green, the chlorophyll a creepers body effecting him now, slowly turning him into one of those disgusting plant monsters. He was so hungry, but he couldn’t tell if that hunger was for food, or for freedom. 

The months had turned into a year, and Doc had officially forgotten who he was. He was just an experiment, a monster. His skin was a deep green, his eyes had apparently blackened, save for his pupil, which had turned a bright shade of red. Once the transformation had been complete, thats when the training had started. 

Doc was stunned the first time he was let out of his chains, a collar placed around his neck and a muzzle still firmly on his face. He remembers the women Mr.K dragged in. She was sobbing, begging him to let her go. Something about a family? A missing son? Doc hadn’t been exactly paying attention to what the women was saying, more what she was doing. His eyes had focused in on her, a low growl leaving him as his head screamed ‘prey,prey, prey’. Mr.K grinned at him, praising him for having not moved or taken anything off, despite being able too. 

Doc had killed that women that day, tore her apart and stained his tattered labcoat with blood. He remembers the blood especially, how much there was and how it cooled on his skin. He told me years later that the women he killed was his mother, how this Mr.K had chained him back up and explained who the women was to him. At that time, Doc had a sudden relapse in humanity, he told me. He sobbed for days afterword, screamed and cursed out his captor. 

It had been another 5 years. Doc was 21 when it all happened. When he felt the sparks in his blood. He didn’t tell Mr.K his current symptoms, mostly because over the years he lost his voice. Doc describes what happened next in almost perfect detail. 

The warehouse had been empty, had been for a while. Doc had heard Mr.K talk about selling him finally, selling his research. Doc had been allowed out of his chains for a few years now, having lost all will to escape. Or at least, thats what his captor thought. Doc stood slowly, his vision now easily adapted for the dark. He recalls walking over to Mr.K’s desk, finding all his research there. Doc destroyed everything there. Ripped up papers and used whatever he could to light them on fire. The only thing he kept, was a log book. One that documented his changes. 

Doc then walked over to the wall of the warehouse, and put his right arm against the wall. He felt the sparks appearing in his blood, and tried to focus them into his right hand. The appendage flashed white, all the way up to his shoulder, before it exploded. 

The explosion left him without his right arm, and he remembered howling in pain. But the deed had been done. The wall now hand a hole just large enough for him to climb through. And so he did. He used his left hand to rip the muzzle and collar off him, leaving them at the scene as he ran, climbing through the hole and vanishing. 

What Doc doesn’t remember, was the nearly 4 years he spent alone. Being chased out of village after village is the only thing he told me about. And after those 4 years. Is where I come into his story. I had come to Doc’s world quickly, to hide from my own. I had been at a bar when i heard the story of a few men, telling of a creeper that looked like a man. And my curiosity had of course been peaked. So i asked about his last location. 

“Somewhere by the river, why?” And that was all the info i needed. I didn’t bother settling my tab, rushing out of the bar with a couple of shots of liquid courage in my system, and ran straight for the river. 

Thankfully, this time i didn’t have to search too far to find someone. As Doc had been right there. He was drinking from the river, wearing a horrifically torn up lab coat and a pair of jeans that hardly seemed to fit him anymore. He was missing an arm, and where his arm had connected to his shoulder had healed surprisingly well. When he noticed me, I was pretty quickly hissed at, but I still don’t blame him at all. This is how the conversation went. 

“Hey, hey! It’s okay! I’m not here to hurt you.” 

Silence. 

“What’s your name?” 

More silence. Well actually, I got a growl in return. 

“I’m Xisuma Void. But my friends call me X. Or Shiswammy. The works too.” I had tried to crack a joke, and that seemed to work. Doc had smiled at me. But if it was a smile or a snarl i still have no clue. I remember offering him food, some bread I had on my person, and he had quickly snatched it, eating ravenously

That’s how our encounters went for the next month. Us meeting at the river, and me giving him food he wouldn’t be able to get by himself. I still remember how wide he smiled when i brought over cake for the two of us to share. He had told me his name was Doc, though I hardly believe that was his birth name. Docm77. My newest friend. 

A month into our meetings, I had told him about hermitcraft. I talked about the server my friend had started and given me co ownership of at the time, meanwhile he told me all of what i have written down. I asked him if he wanted to join, and the look of shock on his face still breaks my heart. He told me he wasn’t human enough to do those sorts of things, but then assured me if its what I wanted, He would come. 

And so the very next day, he was welcomed onto the server. Together we worked on making him a new arm, but it wasn’t the one he currently has. That was a gift from Mumbo years later. Our design… was hardly the best there was. It hardly functioned properly, as redstone at the time wasn’t nearly as well known a magic as it is now. 

The other cybernetic parts also didn’t come in until much later. Another design of Mumbos. He had offered to make the arm as high tech as possible, but to do that he needed direct access to Doc’s brain, to wire everything and make sure it functioned like an actual arm. And thats about all I know of those experiments. Doc and Mumbo don’t talk to much about it. 

Signed, 

Xisuma. 

___

Grian sat there, unable to really make much of a comment as he looked up at Iskall. “Well. Uh. That answers that.” Grian whispered. He flipped through the book, every page written in Xisuma’s hand writing. “Do we go deeper?” He asked. Iskall glanced around. 

“Well ‘Suma is off the server for now. Might as well read the others before he gets back.” Iskall said, “Whose next though?”

“Mumbo.” 


	2. Lone inventor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Just a little note here, some chapters are longer than others mostly due to available content, inspiration, and frankly who's in fact "writing" the journal entries!))
> 
> But this chapter! Mumbo's backstory~!

**Name:** Mumbo Jumbo

**Gender:** Male

**Height:** 2m

**Weight:** 81.6 Kg

**What I know (Mumbo took the liberty of writing this for me)**

I was born into a rather poor family, with 2 brothers and a elder sister. Honestly, I don’t remember much from when i was younger, only that mom died when i was around 5. I don’t know why, but soon after my mothers passing, I’d say a year or so later, I was given to my mentor. My father wanted a better life for me and my siblings is all i really know, he sent them off in different areas and I don’t blame the man one bit. 

My mentor was a… rambunctious older man. He loved playing practical jokes, teaching me everything he could about redstone and building. Neither of us were quite good at building though. Anyways, I remember one time we had gone mining together, so he could show me where the ore is located and grow a appreciation for it. He was always so keen on mining redstone instead of buying it. Said mining it yourself made it stronger. 

I was around 12 on that mining trip. Needless to say it was a disaster. We were chased by zombies, creepers, and skeletons. It’s a memory I look fondly upon. Oh, i forgot to mention, my mentor’s name! His name was Charles, and he was a taller older man who never seemed to loose his youth. But anyways, I remember after the mining session we sat out in the sun and had a sort of picnic, and he had asked me what i had learned. I don’t exactly remember my answer, but I know he was proud of me. 

He always was. 

I was… quite a rambunctious child. Always sitting on the rafters of the workshop, working on small redstone contraptions as Charles worked on helping his clients. But no matter what he did, Charles always had time to come back to the workshop for dinner time. He always seemed so excited whenever i tried something new, even if it blew up in my face. And for a long while, Charles was my best friend. 

Charles taught and raised me until I was 18, and then we became business partners. He handled clients in the workshop while I went out on mission protects and whatnot, going out to help others with redstone projects at there homes and whatnot. And still, no matter what we always had dinner together, talked about our days and complained out customers. 

But one day, Charles was succumbing to his old age. He had a harder and harder time getting out of bed, his hands shook too much to work on the small redstone projects customers brought in, and I should’ve known it would’ve all ended soon. But at the time. I refused to believe Charles would or could die. I had started taking on Charle’s work, probably overworking myself, but at the time it didn’t matter to me. 

Charles always smiled, always laughed at my dumb jokes. Even as he laid in bed sick and dying. I remember that day all too well. 

It was summer, middle of June. I had taken the day off because the both of us knew Charles wouldn’t live till the next day. I stayed in his room all day, and we just talked. He wasn’t scared of dying. In fact, when i asked him what he thought was next for him, he grinned weakly at me, and said. 

“My epic battle with Void.” 

I remember having laughed harder than i had in months, that kind of laughter that leaves genuine tears in your eyes and a sore spot on your stomach. We were both laughing, until Charles started coughing. He smiled at me through my tears, and reached out and grabbed my hand, rubbing his thumb over my hand slowly. His hands were so cold. 

I held his hands firmly, and i remember my head falling. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I’m so scared.” I had told him, and i remember his exact words. 

“There’s no need to be scared, I’ll always be right here.” He said, and his wide grin is what made me sob at his bedside. “You can’t get rid of me that easy my boy!” 

My head was against the bed, holding his hand as i cried. I didn’t want him to die. I wouldn’t be able to handle myself if he did. I felt his other hand gently place itself on my shoulder. “Mumbo. Don’t cry for me. Do me a favor will you?” His voice was quiet, weak, and shaking. I looked up at him, and he was smiling at me. It was a small smile, but even then his eyes held a spark to them. He was happy just having someone beside him. 

“Anything Charles.” He sighed, his hands relaxing. 

“Smile for me. One last time. I want my grandsons smile to be the last thing i see.” He said softly, and without even processing what he said, I smiled widely. He nodded with a low chuckle, “Good.” He whispered, before his body went limp. He died that night, with a smile still on his face. 

I smiled still, despite the sobs that left me. 

For the next week I didn’t leave my room. I just cried, cried up until the funeral. I realized Charles wouldn’t want me crying over his death. So, at his funeral I stood up there, and i said what I still think is the funniest speech i’ve ever gave. My father was there, the man i hadn’t seen in 15 years. He was horribly angry at me for the speech. He said I didn’t take his death seriously. That I just wanted his business and that I was selfish. 

And I didn’t say anything at the time. We watched him be buried in the ground, but i had rushed forward before they could. I told them to open the casket. That my father had forgotten the one thing Charles would’ve wanted in his casket. I had bought him a diamond sword. 

“So he can fight the void and have a chance.” I remember saying as i put the sword in his coffin. 

The next three years i spent buried in work. I never stopped it seemed. Either I was working on helping others, or working on personal projects. I neglected eating, sleeping, or taking care of myself. Whenever I sat down at the dining table to eat, all I could think of was our conversations, my dreams were plagued by my fathers words. 

I don’t remember the exact reason why, But one day I left my world, my home. I went the the main hub, and just sat there for a while. I watched all the new and exciting looking people walk past me. Grian doesn’t remember this. I doubt he would. But I saw him walk past with two people I could only assume were his friends at the time. He was laughing with them, and in that moment I saw Charles in his eyes. It brought me so much comfort and reassurance. I wanted to reach out to him, do anything to keep that small bit of comfort. I cried on that bench that day. 

Grian even walked over to me to ask what was wrong, but a man with brown hair and bunny ears on his head dragged him away. That day, i decided I wasn’t going to let sadness ruin my life. I knew Charles had sent Grian to me for a reason. We kept meeting up on weird occasions, talking and just enjoying whatever company we could together. I remember seeing his friends less and less. 

But Xisuma wants me to add in how the two of us met and well. That’s a slight different type of story. 

I had gone back to my world for work when he came in. He had some sort of issue he wanted my help with. He put a bionic arm that clearly did not belong to him onto the desk, and asked me if I could help modify it and make it better. He offered to pay me but, To be completely honest, the idea of working on such types of technology had me giddy. So together, we worked on it for free. He stayed at the workshop with me, and for the first time in years, there was someone else at the dinner table. 

And the rest is history. 

Signed, 

Mumbo Jumbo. 

___

Grian smiled softly, he did in fact remember those days. He looked up at Iskall, who was suddenly holding onto Stress as the two silently cried. Grian stuttered a bit. 

“Stress? When did you get here?” Grian yelped. 

“I came to ask you guys about traps when i heard you reading and-! That’s so sad!!” Stress said, wiping tears from her eyes. Grian chuckled softly. “Where did you even get this book?” 

“Xisuma’s base. You wanna read the next one?” Grian offered, handing her the boom. 

“Oh, sure! Says here that Xisuma’s next!” Stress smiled, leaning against Iskall as she sat on his lap for no other reason than the swedish man was warm and comfy. 


End file.
